Children of the Damned
by mybeautifulruin-x3
Summary: I was different. Big deal. I understood that. But that didn't give people the right to stare at me like I was a genetic mutation. I felt as if all eyes were on me, and not in a good way.
1. I hold your grace like a broken vase

**_I will battle for the sun__  
And I won't stop until I'm done  
__You are getting in the way  
And I have nothing left to say_**

*The story was inspired by various TV shows, movies and books.**_*  
_****WITH AN ORIGINAL STORYLINE WRITTEN BY ME.******

;)**  
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_I was different. Big deal. I understood that. But that didn't give people the right to stare at me like I was a genetic mutation. The entire class I felt as if all eyes were on me, including the professor's, and not in a good way. I could feel their eyes burning holes in my back. When the bell chimed, I rose to my feet and darted out of the room. I decided keeping my eyes to the floor would be best, until my body collided with a student passing by.

"Sorry," I gave an apologetic smile, though I was sure they were glaring. _If looks could kill_. I made my way through the hall, now packed tight with students.

I walked into the class just as the bell rang, feeling my stomach churn as all eyes fell on the freaky new girl. I was so relieved it was the last class, though I knew it wouldn't be any easier than the rest.

"Ah, you must be Ms. Halliwell." The teacher, Mr. Scott, smiled as he took attendance. I gave him a nod. I was too nervous to speak. "Take a seat, would you? Any open desk is free." I began walking to a table in the back of the class, slowing as he spoke. "And Ms. Halliwell," he didn't continue until I turned to look at him. "Welcome to Current Events."

Mr. Scott wasn't a horrible teacher. He actually talked to me like I was a normal student. Just another face in the crowd. I couldn't say the same for the rest of the class. I ignored them as best as I could. For most of the class I doodled in my notebook, rather than taking notes for the upcoming exam. It's not like it mattered anyway. I wouldn't stay long. My foster family would get tired of me and ship me off.

I wrote the word **FAMILY** on the page and scribbled over it until it tore the paper.

"Having a bad day?" I jumped at the sound of his voice. He sat down in the seat next to me, wearing a crooked grin that could melt anyone's heart. I may have been a witch, but I was still a teenager. I was more than interested in boys.

"You could say that." My cheeks flushed as I closed my notebook.

"Logan, do you have a pass?" Mr. Scott was standing over our desk/table, interrupting our conversation... if you could call it that. He shifted in his chair and reached into his pocket, pulling out a bright pink pass. He handed it over to Mr. Scott with a smug smile on his face. I usually call it the "up yours" expression. Either way, it made me smile.

Mr. Scott walked away mumbling-clearly feeling defeated-and I bit my bottom lip to stifle laughter.

"I'm not exactly his favorite student." Logan shrugged, his grin twisting into a sarcastic frown.

"Hey, it happens." I was impressed that I could get my voice to sound so sympathetic. I mentally high-fived myself. Maybe I should be an actress. Nah, I'm not _that _good. The rest of the class, I sat in silence. Every once in a while I would glance in Logan's direction. His enticing eyes would catch mine. I could feel the heat rushing to my face as I averted my eyes.

The bell cut through the small room, echoing in the hallway. Everybody stood and filed out of the room. I waited until I was the last one to pack up my things.

"Do you have a minute, Lucy?" I looked up to see Mr. Scott standing next to my desk. "I'd like to speak with you. It wont take long."

"Sure. What about?" I was irritated, but it wouldn't kill me to be polite.

"The boy sitting next to you, Logan Mercer, he's a bad influence. You've got great potential. He doesn't. It would be in your best interest to steer clear from him." Was he serious? Already trying to control me. Wow, this school sucked.

"I think I can handle myself, Mr. Scott." I pulled my books off the desk, giving him my best bitch face before exiting the room.

* * *

"Lucinda, dinner's ready!" A very chipper voice sounded from the staircase. I closed my laptop, walking slowly down the steps and into the kitchen. The dinner table was covered with plates and silverware, with a vase filled of white roses as a center piece. On the stove was a strainer full of spaghetti noodles and a pot full of spaghetti sauce and meatballs.

Gloria, my current foster mother, approached me with a large smile. "We heard that spaghetti was your favorite." She pulled out a chair and gestured to the seat.

"Well, you heard right." I sat, looking down at my already-made plate. I couldn't stand people doing things for me. I'm perfectly capable of getting my own food. This time, however, I decided to let it slide. After all, it was only her first official night with me. They'd catch on eventually.

"Is something the matter, Lucinda?" Gloria finished the last of her spaghetti. I hardly ate mine. I spun my fork around in a heap of noodles, keeping silent for at least a minute before responding.

With an overly dramatic sigh, I let the fork fall to the plate. "I just... I think I need some fresh air. You wouldn't mind if I take a short walk, would you?" I batted my long, dark eyelashes at her, hoping my puppy dog face would work.

"Sure you can, sweetheart." She smiled. "Just don't stay out too late."

"Thanks." Free, at last. Without hesitation, I grabbed my sweatshirt and bolted out the door.

I didn't mind staying in the house, mostly because it was huge and they had internet, but Gloria was annoying. Her and her husband, Rex, live in the mansion all by themselves, though Rex always works until three in the morning. They're both in their mid-thirties. Neither of them can produce a child, which I where I fit into the mix. The witch with the ability to raise the dead.

I was abandoned by my mother before I could even walk. Pam, my social worker, told me that she left me on the doorstep to the foster home, but I know better. She probably dumped me on the side of the road, with nothing more than a cardboard box to keep my dry.

When I was seven, I remembered watching debates on TV about the pros and cons of the supernatural society living equal lives with humans. At the time, there weren't many people for supernaturals. By the time I was eleven, a law passed stating that all supernaturals would be treated just as humans are. Thankfully, for me, because that was also the year that I first used my ability.

I had a little beagle named Rags who died of old age. I remember standing over his grave, crying so hard that my nose actually started bleeding. I wished so badly that he'd come back. That's exactly what happened. The next morning he was lying on the front porch, covered in dirt.

I tried resurrecting after that, but it didn't work. It took a few tries before I realized what I was doing wrong; I needed fresh blood. Once I found the missing ingredient, I began using my gift as a source of income. If someone wanted me to raise an animal, I would slice my arm open and bring it back to life. But the longer the animal had been dead, the more blood I would need to bring it back. So instead of self-sacrifice, I began stealing chickens from farms anywhere near the home that I was staying in.

They worked perfectly, though I did feel guilty killing an animal to resurrect someone's dead dog or cat or rabbit. **At first**. It got easier after a while.

One night, I broke into the farm without realizing that the farmer was still feeding all of the animals. He caught me with a chicken in my hand, and a blade in the waistband of my jeans. Before returning to the foster home, I was forced to spend the night in a juvenile home. I sat through a lecture about how wrong it is to kill innocent animals for pleasure. First, I'm not a psycho. I don't get off on watching a chicken bleed out. Second, I didn't enjoy one moment of the time I spent killing them. It was messy, no matter what I did.

I remembered all of the times I had to rinse off in a spring before going back to my foster parents. Imagining the expression on Gloria's face if she saw me covered in blood made me smile. Although that wouldn't be very nice of me. Both Gloria and Rex know that I'm a witch, and they still took me in. I can't deny that they're good people. They're two of the few people who fought for the rights of supernaturals from the very beginning.

Still, it wouldn't hurt to raise a little hell every once in a while.

The wind picked up, whipping my hair in my eyes. I tucked thick locks behind my ears and pulled my jacket tighter around my body and moved on, keeping up a steady pace. Every once in a while a wave of insecurity would pass through me and I'd scan the trees. I just couldn't shake the feeling that someone was watching me.

Finally, I decided to start back to Gloria's house. It was well past 9:00, which meant it was getting darker by the minute. She told me to return before dusk. Of course I wouldn't listen. Hey, maybe she'd try to ground me.

The snap of a twig off in the distance interrupted my train of thought. I did a slow 360 spin to look around me. "Come on, Lucy. It was just a deer, I promise." For the record: I absolutely suck at comforting myself.

The clap of my sneakers on the road gradually got faster. I was sure that the house was right around the corner. As soon as it came into view, my heart sputtered in relief. But it was too early to celebrate. A calloused hand clamped over my mouth. A van sped up to the side of the road and I was shoved into the back, where a new set of hands roped me to the seat and pressed the barrel of a rifle to the back of my head. The driver's identity was hidden with a black ski mask. I couldn't keep myself from laughing. The whole situation was so cliche. A girl walking alone at night is abducted by a bunch of gun toting idiots. _Wearing ski masks_. That was the best part.

The man with the rifle tried speaking through my fit of hysterical giggles. "What the fuck is so funny?" He pushed the barrel into the back of my neck.

"I feel like I've stepped into a tacky action movie. Let me guess, you're going to take me to your private hide-out, force me to talk into a camera, and make my parents pay a hefty ransom to get me back."

"That would work if you had parents. We know who you are, what you do. We will put an end to it. To all supernaturals." My stomach tightened. I didn't speak another word. No one did until the van was parked.

The rope around my waist loosened. The man carrying the gun opened the door and dragged me outside. I knew where we were. I've never been here, until tonight. But I saw this exact field in the news papers. Frankfort, Kentucky had been known the past few weeks for the increasingly high unsolved missing persons reports. This field was where one of the bodies turned up. A young girl, not yet five. She had been beaten to death.

"You idiots killed that little girl." I couldn't control my anger. I never could.

"She wasn't the only one. She sure as shit wont be the last." I balled my hands into fists and looked at each of the men. Three overweight, idiotic psychos. The man with the rifle was closest. I knew I had to do something, or else I would die.

"Go to hell." I dropped to the ground and kicked the man's kneecap. When he doubled over I sprinted toward the trees. A gunshot went off. I heard the bullet as it zipped past my head.

"Get the bitch!" I didn't dare look back to see how close they were. I almost made it. Just two feet before the line of trees, one of the men tackled me. I tried pulling myself into the woods, but his hands wrapped around my ankles. He violently hauled me across the field. I could feel the stones in the damp earth scrape my stomach as I brushed against them.

Another voice: the man with the rifle. He held his weapon like a bat, striking my side with the thick wooden butt of it.

I rolled onto my back, keeping my gaze up at the stars. Even when the man held the barrel just inches from my face. "You deserve this. Every last one of ya." I was too tired to care anymore. The man's finger slid to the trigger. I closed my eyes, hoping that I wouldn't feel any pain. The sound of a pack of wild dogs off in the distance delayed my execution.

The angry snarling and howling progressively became louder. They were closing in. I could hear rustling in the trees, as well as twigs snapping under the weight of their bodies. Finally, an abnormally large, misshapen dog ascended through the depth of the forest. It stood from shoulder to paw at around four feet, it's length from snout to tail somewhere around seven or eight feet. The canines protruding from its mouth had to be at least three inches long. The dog looked emaciated. Every bone in its body was perfectly visible.

The smell of decomposition hit me like a freight train. I pinched my nostrils together, refusing to take in the horrible smell any longer.

I lay still as one of the dogs from the pack approached me. It stood over me in a very dominant and aggressive stance. A low growl erupted from the animal's chest. As I caught its eye, I noticed the red pigmentation in the iris. The dog back away, rerouting itself to the men who tried to kill me. There had to be 7 identical dogs in the field, all surrounding the men. Each dog lowered itself to the ground. An ear-splitting howl from one of the creatures sent a very obvious signal to the others: attack. They leaped forward, sinking the large teeth and claws into any part of the three men they could grab a hold of.

I watched in terror as the men were torn to pieces by the blood-thirsty animals. The sounds of tearing flesh were gag-inducing.

Grips like fishhooks jammed under my armpits. I was caught and hoisted to my feet. Before I could get a glimpse of the person who helped me, he broke out into a dead sprint, dragging me along behind him. We broke through an opening to a smaller field, in which a large Jeep Wrangler was idling. He impatiently pushed me up into the passenger seat before climbing into the vehicle himself.

The jeep lurched forward, as we sped down a man-made dirt road in the middle of the field.


	2. UPDATE

Sorry it's been so long since I updated! I'm working on finishing the second chapter now. My computer crashed, so I had to wait to get a new one before I could finish it. But thanks to everyone who reviewed in the previous chapter. I promise I wont keep you waiting for very much longer.

-Calee.


	3. We've lost the minds we came to know

**So, it took me hours, but I found some actors/actresses that I would like to use for the five main characters. I think the one for Lucy was a perfect choice! Private Message me for the image if you can't get it on here. **www DOT tiny pic DOT com/r/2ujtu8p/5 - Just add a period where the DOT is, and remove the spaces. (**YES, I changed the color of their eyes. xD**) Well, except for Jack's.

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"What the fuck is going on?" I hardly ever swore. In fact, even at eighteen, I still substitute those lovely choice words with another word that seemed a little less offensive.

"I'll explain everything later. Right now you need to clean yourself up." The man, who I could hardly see in the pitch black jeep, popped open the glove compartment. He let a small plastic box fall into my lap. If I didn't know any better, I would have thought it was a lunch box. But, printed in bold letters, were the words "First-Aid", along with a red cross.

"What is this for?" The only injury I could recall getting was the increasingly painful throbbing I felt in my side after one of the men socked me with the gun. Speed demon beside me only made things worse. My side was overly sensitive to the jeep jerking up and down on hills at the moment.

"You're bleeding. Where we're going, you won't want an open wound. Believe me." I narrowed my eyes at that remark. But, sure enough, a small patch of blood stained the front of my teal Ed Hardy sweatshirt.

"Come on!" I lifted the hoodie and the white t-shirt I had on under it to expose the skin of my stomach. I had serious road rash. I pulled a plastic tab on the front of the First-Aid kit. It popped open, flashing all of the contents inside. To my relief, a flashlight was tucked under a pack of cohesive medical wrap. I clicked it on, examining the damage around my navel. It was dirty, and even a little grass-stained. I brushed a few pebbles away, wincing when my fingers grazed the raw skin.

I grabbed a bottle of peroxide, uncapped it, and poured a few drops into a cloth. As soon as the ruthless liquid came into contact with the torn skin it burned. I tucked the cloth in the front of my jeans, and then tipped the bottle of peroxide so the clear liquid would trickle to my stomach. The cloth soaked up any drop threatening to dampen the front of my jeans.

Once I believed the wound was clean enough, I placed a few gauze pads on the wound, using medical tape to keep it down.

"Good, but you'll need to get rid of the shirt." He had been quiet for so long, I jumped at the sound of his voice. After the words registered in my mind, I panicked. My first thought was that he was some psycho path who had been using this heroic act to get me alone, which he did, so that he could rape me and toss my body in a river. Why the hell else would he want me to take my shirt off?

"Listen, I know this sounds weird. But we've got to get rid of anything of yours that may have even the smallest drop of blood on it." I watched as one massive arm lifted from the steering wheel. I shied away, pressing myself as close to the door as possible. He reached behind his seat, pulling a cloth out of the back. When I refused to take it, he smiled. It was difficult to see his features in the pitch black of the jeep, but I recognized that smile. My breath hitched in my throat as I lifted my arm to click the dome light on.

The light was brighter than my eyes could bare. I shielded them with a hand until I was completely used to the brightness. My eyes wandered to the driver's seat to a man wearing that same heart-melting smile that I saw only hours before. But it wasn't Logan in the driver's seat.

"Who are you?" His smile never faltered.

"Jack Mercer. Nice to finally meet you, Lucy." I fumbled for words. _Say something, anything. _I felt like an idiot just gawking at him.

"Hi.." I was better off keeping my mouth shut. "Mercer... Are you related to someone named Logan by any chance?"

"He's my brother. You know, I bet I know someone who'll love meeting a witch. She could also help you take better care of that," He gestured to my stomach.

"I cleaned it up fine." How dare he challenge my nursing skills. I've bandaged plenty of wounds in the past. I'm more than experienced.

"Well enough to keep it from infection. In a room full of-" He cut himself short, tossing the t-shirt in my direction. "Just put that on, please. We'll get you better clothes when we get inside." Inside _where_ was the question. I had a bad feeling about all of this. I wanted to run as far away as possible, but I knew that the things from the field weren't far behind. I wouldn't want to be caught alone when one of those came along. I made Jack pull over long enough for me to find a tree to hide behind and change. I walked back to the vehicle with my blood stained clothes in hand. He snagged them and tossed them in the ditch.

"What was that for?" When he turned back to face me, he shrugged innocently.

"What? Don't tell me you still wanted them. They were ruined." _Grin and bare it, Luce._ I paused to take a few deep breaths before responding___._

"It would have washed out. You think that's the first time I've had a blood stain on my clothes?" I pulled myself into the passenger seat of the jeep, crossing my arms tightly over my chest. I was still fuming over losing my best two shirts when Jack pulled into a parking lot that sat in front of a warehouse. The windows were boarded over, but I could still see beams of light escaping through cracks.

Just as we got out of the jeep, a petite blonde flitted from the front door of the building.

"Jack, thank god!" Her voice sounded magical. She had platinum blonde hair, flowing flawlessly past her shoulders in thick, wavy tendrils. Her eyes were a fascinating emerald color. It looked as if they were glowing. Needless to say, she was beautiful. The girl caressed Jack's face and kissed him gingerly before turning her attention to me.

"Willow, this is Lucy. Lucy, Willow."

"Lucy? I've heard all about you. It's an honor to finally meet you!" She jumped forward and wrapped her arms around me. I winced when she jostled my side, and patted her shoulder before Jack pulled her away.

"I need you to take her up to the back room. She's got a wound on her stomach. It needs cleaned before she can stick around down stairs. Easy with her. She took quite a beating tonight." Jack kissed her once more before walking inside.

"I'm glad you finally came. We've been waiting for you." She looped her arm in mine and pulled me through the door. I could hear shouting, but there were only five people in the room with us. The noise came from an open door leading to a cellar downstairs.

"What's going on down there?" She led me away from the door, taking me to a room at the end of the hallway.

"Just boys being boys. You'll see soon enough." She opened a cabinet and pulled herbs and homemade creams out. "I made this myself. It took years to perfect." I sat on the sink and tucked my shirt under my arms, leaning back so she could see the damage done to the skin around my navel.

"It's not that bad, I don't see what the problem is." She rubbed a dime-sized amount of cream onto the wound. Surprisingly, I didn't feel any pain. I barely felt anything at all. It was already starting to feel better.

"It may seem stupid, but it's necessary. Some of the boys downstairs have problems controlling themselves. It could be dangerous to stand in a room full of werewolves and vampires with a fresh wound. Like swimming in shark infested water when you're bleeding." She pressed a square of gauze over the cream and taped it to my stomach. She placed her palm against my side where the man struck me. I cringed away from her hand. "Just relax." My skin tingled. At first it was a little uncomfortable, but as the tingling became more insistent the pain in my side faded, until I felt nothing at all. "All set."

I looked to my side, eyes widening as the bruise faded before my eyes. "Thank you. It's like none of it ever happened." The spot that had once been turning dark purple was now back to my pale ivory skin tone.

"You're welcome. Though the road rash may leave a faint scar behind..." She led me to the stairs where the yelling had come from. "Ready?" Without giving me time to answer, she grabbed my wrist and took me to the bottom of the steps.

There were so many people, all of which that their backs to us. Willow gestured for me to follow as she began pushing through the crowd of people. Once we got to an opening, we realized they were all gathered around a tall, muscular, shirtless man covered in tattoos. He had white tape wrapped around his hands, which hand blood smeared all over the knuckles. He was fighting people.

Another man walked into the ring of people. He was shirtless also, though he had no tattoos. He was perfectly built. The fluidity of his movement was nearly flawless. I tried to get a look at his face, but it was hidden under the visor of a ball cap. An older man walked into the circle and pulled the mystery man's hands behind his back. He spun the man around to show that he had him handcuffed.

"Wait, that doesn't seem fair. The other guy has at least fifty pounds on him." I couldn't see how this was—in any way—a good idea. An older woman, presumably in her forties, scoffed at my remark.

"Believe me, Frankie's doin' Russell a favor. The kid's fast." Another man, who was standing in front of the woman, voiced his opinion.

"We could have every guy in this room fight him all at once and he'd walk away untouched." I'll admit, I was definitely curious. Frankie, the man who'd handcuffed the guy in the baseball cap, walked around with a wad of money in his hands.

"Grant vs. Mercer, place your bets." Nearly every person he walked by handed him money. Everybody's bet was on—.

"Did he say Mercer?" I leaned toward Willow, speaking just loud enough for her to hear me over the crowd.

"Yeah. Jack's younger brother is one heck of a fighter. I don't understand why he does it. Violence is pointless." Willow wrinkled her nose and grimaced. "I'm going to navigate my way out of this cluster of people. Care to join me?"

"No, I think I'm going to stick around and watch this."

"Suit yourself." She waved goodbye and skipped away. Was it really Logan under that hat? Sure enough, the man shook his head and the hat fell to the floor. Logan's signature smile was brighter than I'd ever seen it, though I could see a hint of insidiousness in his eyes. He clearly had something up his sleeve.


End file.
